


Getaway Car

by undertheclouds



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undertheclouds/pseuds/undertheclouds
Summary: It was the best of times // the worst of crimes





	1. The Simulation

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

"Watch it!"

A bomb detonated to my right and I saw a Stormtroopers familiar bucket helmet fly off of the trooper and land next to me in my hiding place. I slid further into spot, determined not to be seen.

"91! Shoot! Shoot!" A voice boomed next to me, shaking me out of my thoughts and back to the action. I pulled out my blaster and aimed at the enemy in front of me. I had a perfectly clear shot.

"What are you waiting for!" The voice screamed again and shots fired above and around me. "You're going to get us killed!

"I'm trying!" I screamed back, still aiming and still not shooting. Someone jumped next to me, grabbing my blaster, and shooting at our enemy - a fatal shot.

"Thanks, FN-2003," I gasped when he thrust the blaster back to me. He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder before running back out into the action.

"Simulation over," The robotic voice boomed over the room. The resistance, x-wing starfighters, and all of the holographic weapons instantly disappeared. I looked up from my post and saw my comrades lifting themselves up from the floor of the training room, adjusting their training blasters and their helmets, askew from the practice battle. Hearing the familiar clink of metal shoes, I scrambled to my feet and got into the formation along with the rest of my squadron. Captain Phasma of the First Order stood at the front of the training room. Her immense power was palpable and I had to resist the urge to shudder under my direct leader.

"Your overall performance was," Captain Phasma started dryly, pacing in front of the group of cadets, her chrome suit blinding in the hologramatic lights. "...adequate."

There was a collective sigh of relief from my team and I could feel droplets of sweat forming under my helmet as I tried to catch my breath. "Adequate" was as high of a compliment that Phasma was able to give. You could feel the tension in the room as we were waiting for her orders. Over the past few days, there was a sense of urgency and pressure that was apparent on the ship. Having this intense of a simulation was not a good sign and I feared the worst.

"As you are all apart of one of the top squadrons in all of the magnificent First Order, I'm sure all of you have noticed our change of course," the Captain's magnetic voice radiated throughout the room, sending chills up and down my spine. "Tomorrow, we have a mission on Jakku."

I furrowed my brow.  _What could we possibly need on that worthless desert planet?_ I thought shrewdly. We had been stationed in the outer-rim, which I preferred. It was safer, quieter. Going to the inner rim was a suicide mission.

"We will be giving you further orders when we arrive in the Jakku system. I expect all of you to perform at the magnitude and power that I expect from my top cadets. Anything less and there will be dire consequences. FN Corps, at ease; you are dismissed until our mission tomorrow."

Murmuring erupted in the training room full of tentative excitement. This was not our first mission, but we could tell this would be our most important.

"Let's go."

I heard the familiar voice of my closest friend, FN-2187. His warm tone, muffled by the helmet, was calming. We needed to talk about what happened in the simulation. I knew that he couldn't keep covering for me but I knew he would help me form a plan for tomorrow's mission.

"FN-2187 and FN-2191 stand back," Phasma stated, stopping the two before they were able to leave the training room.

"Nevermind, then," he mumbled under his breath as we turned around to face Phasma.

"FN-2187. You performed well in the simulation, per usual," she stated simply turning to look at him.

"Thank you, captain," he responded.

"On the other hand," Phasma said, turning to look at me. Even through her metallic mask, I could feel her eyes burning into me with intense disappointment. "FN-2191, you are consistently the weakest link. You have made me regret bringing you on to my division, the greatest in all of the First Order I may add. Your aim is the best on this squadron, if not this entire base, but the fact that you hardly ever  _shoot_  is a problem that needs to be addressed. When I saw your weaponry skill, I assumed you would be able to be trained to be our best sharpshooter, but I fear I should have left you to rot in our technology division."

I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes, eternally thankful I was hidden behind my helmet. Like every other cadet in our squadron, I was taken from my family when I was young. The only thing the First Order gave me was my name, FN 2191. As I grew older, I realized I had a gift for technology and was asked to join the technology division at once to assist in building one of the many weapons that the First Order was curating. After an incident regarding a rogue blaster, Phasma brought me on to her division to train under her command with the hope I would become the top shooter in the First Order.

"I have seen your little..." she spat bitterly, pausing to stare at us, "friendship getting stronger. I see how you both attempt to aid each other more than your comrades. Friendship has no place in our war. It makes us  _weak._ But I have disregarded it because I assumed, wrongly, that FN-2187 would influence you and bring out your talent."

I moved to speak, but her hand shot up to stop me.

"And don't you dare insult my intelligence and attempt to convince me that I am mistaken. Our mission to Jakku is tomorrow and there is absolutely no room for error. We are only as strong as our weakest link, and you, FN-2191, are our weakest link. General Hux has also been made aware of your inability shoot a simple hologram. It would be wise of you to use your talent to protect the great First Order, or you will suffer dire consequences. That's an order from your commander."

Captain Phasma turned on her heel and stormed out of the training room, her boots rhythmically clicking against the waxed floor. The door slid open and closed tightly behind her.

"91," FN-2187 said, placing his hands on my shoulders. "You're the best shot in our entire squadron. By  _far_." He reached his gloved hands to his helmet, took it off, and placed it on one of the simulation tables. "I don't want Plasma to keep harping on you."

I sat down on the ground and placed my helmet in my hands in defeat. "I don't know what I'm going to do, 87. I can't shoot anyone! I can't even shoot a damn hologram," I said, my voice shaking. "I just don't know what I'm going to do..."

"Take off your helmet," 87 said gently, kneeling down next to me.

I shook my head, trying to hold back my tears. "No, 87. I'm not going to take off my helmet. I ... I just want to stop being so useless in front of Phasma. I'm sick of being so weak!"

"You're not useless 91!" He said, reaching towards me and taking off my helmet. I felt my hair, matted with sweat and the helmet fall out of the bun I had put it in this morning. I could feel strands stuck to my face and hot tears running down my face. "And you sure as hell aren't weak."

"I  _am_  weak and you know it," I said angrily. I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes and grabbed my helmet back from my friend. "How many troopers can say they feel guilty shooting a hologram? A damn hologram!" Hurriedly, I tried to put my helmet back on, but 87 grabbed my arms.

"That doesn't make you weak," he said, he deep brown eyes piercing mine. "That just means you have heart."

"Heart," I spat bitterly, pulling away from him. "Heart isn't going to help me on Jakku. Having heart is going to get me  _killed_." I pulled my helmet back and walked towards the exit.

"Hey!" He yelled, running towards me. "You know what they are going to do to you if you show any sort of cowardice tomorrow, right?"

I stopped when I reached the door. "Do you think I don't know?" I said in barely a whisper. "Sometimes I think death would be better than this place."

"91 ---"

"I'll see you tomorrow, 87," I interrupted, walking out of the training room.

I have  _got_  to get my shit together.


	2. Jakku

"Ready?" FN-2003 said lightly trying to break the immense tension on base, patting me on the back of my uniform. I had always liked FN-2003, who we had nicknamed Slip. Before I was placed in the FN Corps, he would always fall behind during the training simulations, which is how he earned his nickname. Phasma would consistently tell us that he was the weakest link before me. But even with the less than kind nickname, he was one of the kindest, calmest troopers I have ever met. I was lucky to be stationed with him.

"I don't think I have a choice," I muttered, following him on the ship that was being primed to take us to Jakku. I took my place next to him and grabbed on to the Dowager strap. Even though we had to travel to the inner rim, the ships were some of the fastest in the galaxy. I would know; I worked on that project. My heart ached to be back in the technology unit, safe, away from blasters.

"That's the spirit, 91," Slip laughed, grabbing on to his strap as well.

"Prepare for takeoff," a robotic voice echoed throughout the ship and my stomach lurched uncomfortably. My heart was beating so loudly I was worried that Slip could hear it. The ship jerked forward, and I closed my eyes. For many of us, this would be our last battle... you just never know who will make it, but you always pray it's you.

I could feel the transporter lifting out of our base and zooming through our galaxy. Sighing, I closed my eyes and gripped my strap as tightly as I possibly could, trying to feel something,  _anything_ , but nerves. A gloved hand silently reached over to hold my own. I turned to look at Slip and smiled. Although we were both hidden behind our helmets, I knew he was smiling too. Compassion was something that you never felt on our base, so when a small moment of compassion surfaced, it meant everything.

"Attention FN Corps!" Captain Phasma's metallic voice rang throughout our transporter and an unwelcome shiver ran up and down my spine. "We are about to disembark on Jakku. You are ready. You will fight for the First Order. Some of you may die but consider it an honor. You know your posts. We are accompanied by Commander Ren and our mission is to protect him and to find Lor San Tekka, who has something that we need. Kill who you need to. For our Supreme Leader and the FIrst Order!"

"Rah!" The squadron yelled in unison as the transporter gate lowered. One by one, we ran out into the desert wasteland of Jakku. As soon as my feet hit the warm sand, it was complete chaos. Blue and red blaster beams flew through the air as my corps ran through this village. A stormtrooper with a fire blaster started torching the dry huts of the villages and I could feel the heat penetrate my suit.

"Over here 91!" The familiar voice of FN-2187 shook me out of my thoughts and dread washed over me as I realized where we were and what our mission was - kill anyone and everyone. I ran towards 87 and Slip, who was charging in front of him. I fell in line with them as we pushed forward to the city.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a blue bolt flew through the air towards us. I watched it, almost as if it was in slow motion as a scream involuntarily burst from my lips. "No!" The beam hit Slip square in the chest. From my arms training, I knew this would be a fatal shot. 87 and I jumped behind coverage behind where he fell.

"Slip...No, no, no!" I started, kneeling next to him. 87 fell next to me leaning on his blaster for support. Slip slowly raised his arm to us, placing his hand on 87's helmet, a bloody, smeared handprint was the only thing that we had left of Slip. I choked back a sob. "8... 87, we have to get out of here and -- "

I was interrupted by an urgent radio signal in my helmet. "Attention FN Corps! We have the subject in question. Return to the transport at once for further commands!"

I jumped to my feet, still shaking from watching one of my closest comrades murdered in front of me. "Let's go, 87," I said, preparing to run back to our transporter, but he wasn't moving. His body was hunched over Slip, shaking. "87, you're in shock. We have to go! If we stay here we die!"

I ran back towards him, grabbing him by his arm and desperately tried to pull him up. Coming to his senses, he gave me a quick nod and lifted himself off of the sand. We both ran back towards or transporter where our division was waiting.

"... and the rest?" I heard Phasma ask when we at the transporter. A prisoner was being pushed onto the ship by two stormtroopers, followed by Kylo Ren. His tall, menacing frame stopped on the bridge of the ship to turn and face Captain Phasma. He paused, scanning the villagers.

"Kill them," he stated simply through his helmet, turning back on his heel and boarding the ship that would take us back to Starkiller base. The way he gave his comment made my heartbreak.  _How could anyone give a command like that, like Phasma should have_ known _that's what we had to do._

"Arms at the ready," Phasma commanded. Our squadron pulled their blasters up and aimed at the villagers. Closing my eyes, I felt hot tears streaming down my face; I didn't even realize I was even crying. Slowly, I pulled my blaster up and aimed at the wailing villagers.

"On my count. Three, two..." blaster beams rocketed out of the blasters into the innocent village. I dropped my blaster to my side, unable to shoot anyone so innocent. Screams erupted and slowly died down until all was silent, except the cracking of the burning homes. All of the villagers were gone. I turned to my right to find 87 - his blaster was at his side, mirroring mine.

"Retreat," Phasma's voice rang through our helmets. We walked back on our transporter, leaving our fallen soldiers and the slain village to burn. I took my place at my Dowager strap and felt the empty space beside me.

"Slip," I choked out, my breath catching in my throat.  _How can someone so kind be gone?_ I questioned bitterly, my hands shaking with sadness and anger.  _And how could we just leave him there to burn!_

I turned my head to look for 87, and I saw that bloodied handprint on his helmet a few rows back from me. As if sensing someone staring at him, his eyes darted to mine, giving me a curt nod, as if finally agreeing with me.  _We had to get out of here._

The First Order Transport rocked violently and I could tell that we were landing. Sure enough, the door lowered itself and my comrades slowly made their way off of the ship, with the exception of 87. I waited until the transport was empty and tentatively walked towards him.

"87..." I whispered, placing a comforting hand on his back. "I - I don't know what to say. What do we do now?" Without warning, he took his helmet off. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin glistened with sweat.

"91," he said suddenly, causing me to jump. "I ... we can't be here anymore. We have to -"

"FN-2187 and FN-2191," Captain Phasma said dangerously, walking back on to the transport. "Submit your blasters for inspection."

"Yes, Captain," we said in unison, still not turning to face her. I gripped my blaster, wishing it could penetrate her chrome suit.

"I hope the results will be satisfactory for both of your sakes, particularly yours, FN-2191. And FN-2187, who gave you permission to remove your helmet?"

"Sorry, Captain," he said breathlessly. I could see his hands shaking, and I prayed Phasma wouldn't notice.

"Both of you report to my division at once!" she said, turning to leave the transport. 87 and I stayed glued to our spots, not sure what to do next.

"91," 87 said, grabbing my shoulders. "I have a plan."


	3. The Choice

"Follow me," FN-2187 whispered urgently, grabbing my arm and directing me to the south side of our base, the exact opposite way to Phasma's division. He walked quickly through the mass of people, weaving in and out of the other stormtroopers, and I struggled to keep up.

"Where are you going?" I asked quickly as he released his grip; I began jogging behind him. He grabbed me and pulled me into a deserted hallway. "What are you doing, 87! We are deliberately disobeying orders..."

"We are leaving this place and I mean it. We - we have to get out of here," he said urgently. Each word dripped with fear. "We have to go before we are both killed. You  _know_  as soon as Phasma sees our blasters we are done. I can't... I've seen what the First Order can do and I just can't..."

"What --" I started but was quickly interrupted.

"That prisoner that Ren brought back to our base? I heard them say that he is the top pilot in the Resistance. If we can break him out, we can --"

"Hold on, 87. Please, you have to calm down," I whispered, pleading with him to lower his voice. I moved closer to him and hissed, "We can't  _actually_ leave. What are you thinking!"

"91, you're the closest to a family that I have," he choked, staring directly into my helmet. "I can't lose you, but I can't stay on this godforsaken base any longer. Staying here is committing suicide. You  _have_ to come with me."

I inhaled sharply trying to calm my heart that was beating so fast I thought I might have a heart attack. "We need to be level-headed about this, 87. We have to be. Deserting the base? Do you want to be marked and called a traitor? First Order news travels at light speed. No matter where we go, we will be  _marked._  You have to understand this! I know seeing Slip die was --"

"No,  _you_ don't understand, 91. Do you want to stay here for the rest of your life, however short it is? Do you want to see the rest of your squadron, the rest of your  _friends_  to die in front of you? I don't want to be next and I sure as hell don't want you to be next! I'm begging you. Please don't make me do this alone..." He trailed off, begging me. I closed my eyes, weighing my options.

I knew I would most likely be executed once I got to Phasma's division, but I would rather be dead than continue to be at the mercy of the First Order. 87 was rash, but he did have a point... and he was my best friend. I couldn't leave him to travel the galaxy by himself. I would never be able to live not knowing if he was dead or alive.

"Alright," I said, defeated. "What's the plan." I didn't want to leave at the risk of being killed, but I realized the odds of me going to Phasma's division and coming out alive were less than ideal.  _It's now or never_ , I thought to myself, shaking my head.

"Thank you," 87 gasped, engulfing me in a hug. "Besides, we both know I can't do this without you." He started to walk and beckoned for me to follow him.

"That's most likely true, to be honest," I responded shrewdly, once again following him through the waves of stormtroopers still storming the halls. "Where are we going? I can't follow a plan unless I know the plan."

"We are headed to the sanitation floor," he said, heading into the base lift, pressing the code and floor for sanitization. The door closed swiftly behind us and we began to lower down deep into the base.

"So," I started confused, "we are going to finish up some mopping before hitting up the Resistance pilot?"

"We are going to get clean uniforms," he said simply. My eyes wandered to the bloody handprint, still so jarring against the stark white helmets. 87 sighed and took off his helmet, throwing it on the floor. "I don't want to keep seeing Slip."

I nodded in understanding. Following his lead, I took off my helmet and tossed it next to his on the elevator floor. The door opened revealing an empty sanitation unit.

"I also wanted a safe space to talk and formulate a plan," he said as he started to run towards where the clean, polished armor was held. "This place is always dead."

"What's next?" I said, quickly scanning through the available racks of armor, trying to find my size. Once the program found armor that would fit, I hastily threw off the rest of my uniform, revealing the standard black compression pants and long-sleeved black shirt underneath. A crash rang out throughout the room from where 87 was looking for clean armor. "Oy! Let's try to keep a low profile, yeah?"

"Working on it!" He yelled, struggling to put on his front abdominal plate. "Is there anything you need from the dorms?"

I knew what he was referring to. Instinctively, I grasped my necklace that hung loosely around my neck: a small, ice-cold crystal that was strung together by old leather cord. As stormtroopers, we were not allowed any personal belongings from our previous origin. But I had always been a crafty child, and I was able to hide my mother's necklace and keep it secret for all of these years. It was the only tie I had to my former life, and I would guard that necklace with my life.

"No," I said, stuffing the necklace into a pocket of my shirt to keep it safe. "I'm ready."

"Let's go!" He said, running back towards the elevator, still waiting idly for us. 87 punched in the return code to lead us to back the south division. "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking. We go to the pilot, free him, and ask him to give us a ride to the other side of the outer-rim where no one can ever find us."

I stared at him blankly. "Oh, yes, that'll go over well.  _Hello, Resistance pilot! Please take these two armed, traitor stormtroopers to a safe, far-away planet._  That pilot will drop us so fast we'll be falling at hyperspeed."

"Your support is truly overwhelming, 91," he muttered, putting his clean helmet on. The door opened and we began to run, once again. "We'll wing it."

"Roger," I said, trailing him. He was right; we had no other options.

"Ready?" He said, stopping in front of the interrogation room where the pilot was being held.

"As I'll ever be," I responded, praying that my voice wouldn't leave me. The interrogation room doors slid open to reveal a bloodied Resistance pilot on the edge of consciousness and an armed stormtrooper standing guard.

"Ren wants the prisoner," 87 said strongly, walking up to the stormtrooper. Looking at his insignia, I saw that he was a part of the JY Corps.

"That's not protocol," the JY trooper said simply, adjusting his blaster.

"Do you really want to keep Ren waiting?" I said, in as deadly of a tone I could muster. I advanced on him, my blaster in the ready position. "Because if so, I'd be more than happy explain that to Ren when he doesn't get this prisoner in a timely fashion."

"Yeah!" 87 said excitedly from behind me. I rolled my eyes and raised a hand to interrupt any further thought.

"Unhelpful," I muttered at 87, still advancing on the trooper. "JY-834, is it?"

I heard the stormtrooper gulp and give a curt not. "FN-2187, take note of that. We will need to inform General Hux and Commander Ren of this --"

"Wait!" JY-834 yelled a little too loudly, startling the prisoner, his eyes shooting wide open in confusion. I stopped walking and waited, my finger still on the trigger. "No need to do that, FN Corps."

We heard the familiar whoosh of the interrogation chair unlock. The prisoner stood there, unmoving, not sure what to do next in a room of loaded stormtroopers.

"Go," I said to JY-834 who walked quickly out of the room, no doubt to his commander.

FN-2187 helped the Resistance prisoner out of the chair. "What is this..." the pilot asked us slowly as we guided him out of the room. The door closed quickly behind us and I knew then that there was no turning back. 


	4. The Escape

"Let's go," FN-2187 said roughly, grabbing the Resistance prisoner. The bloodied face of the prisoner looked exhausted and terrified. Even he seemed to know that once you go to Kylo Ren you never come back. I resisted the urge to put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him; there was no time.

FN-2187 led him down the hall, retracing our steps. We passed by countless stormtroopers who had no idea that anything was wrong. 87 pushed the prisoner roughly for effect before murmuring, "Turn here."

We stopped in the same deserted hallway where he asked me to leave with him just minutes ago. It felt like hours had past and I could feel my heart rate increasing with every second. The longer we wait, the more likely we will be caught.

"Listen carefully. If you do exactly what we say we can get you out of here," 87 whispered urgently.

"What," the pilot responded, furring his brow in confusion.

"This is a rescue. We're helping you escape. Can you fly a tie fighter?" I asked and his deep brown eyes locked with mine in confusion.

"Are you with the Resistance?" he asked, confused, sizing us up.

"What? No, no no. We're breaking you out! Can you fly a tie fighter?" 87 responded, taking off his helmet. The pilot looked at him in surprise.

"I can fly anything," he responded defensively. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," 87 responded seriously.

"You need a pilot."

"We need a pilot."

\---

"Okay, stay calm... stay calm," FN-2187 said under his breath as we walked across the crowded base landing floor. Thankfully, there was a great deal of excitement and we were able to slip through the stormtroopers without alarm.

"I am calm," the pilot said quickly, looking at 87 suspiciously.

"I was talking to myself, " he responded, but I knew it was as much for his sake as mine. Even as children, he had always been good at reading me, despite the helmet. "Not yet. Okay, go! This way."

The three of us bolted to our left, weaving in and out of the groups walking on the massive base. We reached the tie fighter hold, where all three of us climbed up the nearby ladder. 87 threw his helmet on the ground behind him and lowered himself down into the gun pod of the fighter, the pilot quickly followed him into the cockpit. I took off my helmet slowly, staring at the white mask.

"No need to get sentimental! Let's go!" 87 yelled, breaking me out of my thoughts. I quickly tossed the helmet behind me and dropped down into the gun pot behind 87. Unfortunately, there were only two seats on tie fighters. I tumbled down directly onto 87 causing him to yell out in pain.

"You don't want to know where you just landed, girl!" He growled as I scurried off of him, contorting myself next to him.

"You probably deserved it," I muttered, removing my armor so I would have more room in the pod.

"I've always wanted to fly one of these things," I heard the pilot utter from the cockpit. "You shoot?" He asked the two of us.

"Blasters, I can," 87 responded, beginning to strap himself into the weapon chair.

"Okay, same principal. Use the toggle to the left to switch between missiles, cannons, and mag pulses --"

"Are you kidding me?" I yelled at 87, stopping him from buckling himself in. "Who was brought onto the corp to be a sharpshooter?"

87's eyes widened in realization as he scooted over to allow me to sit. "That's a better idea."

I settled into the eat, strapping myself in tightly to my seat. I adjusted myself in the seat and began to ready our weapons. The fighter started ascending but was stopped by the rope lock.

"Shit!" I said, watching the stormtroopers on base run towards the tie fighter in confusion, their weapons drawn.  _They knew._

"I can fix this," the Resistance pilot yelled. I could hear him adjusting the controls, attempting to find the release to the lock.

The troopers below us began to run toward us more quickly and bearing heavier weaponry. I knew that it was only a matter of time before the commanders noticed an unsanctioned tie fighter try to fly out to the galaxy. The bolts began showing the tie fighter, but they were no match for the guns on the fighter. I quickly took out as many stormtroopers as I could, also sending a blast to base control for out measure.

"I got it!" The pilot yelled from the cockpit. The tie fighter's lock hit the ground with a loud thud, and we began speeding away from Starkiller base. "This thing really moves!"

I could feel that this pilot really could fly anything; he was avoiding every shot the base threw at us so far with ease. Within seconds of flying off base, a stampede of tie fighters rounded the ship, heading right towards us and the ventral cannons on the base of the ship slowly started tracking our movements.

"We gotta take out as many of these fighters as we can or we're not gonna get very far," he said to me. I nodded and began gunning down as many as I could.

"I think the cannons are gonna be more of a problem!" I yelled, taking out another Tie fighter. The cannons were locked on us and I knew it would be seconds before Hux called on the cannons to be fired.

"I'm gonna get us in position. Just stay sharp. Up ahead! Up ahead! You see it? I got us dead center. It's a clean shot." I fired the missile directly into the cannon, causing an explosion to erupt.

"YEAH! Did you see that?!" 87 yelled in my ear, hitting me on the shoulder in excitement.

"I saw it!" the pilot yelled from the front of the fighter. I grinned despite myself; it felt good to do something that felt so easy.

"I forgot how good of a shot you are 91!" 87 yelled excitedly, pumping his fist.

"It's always easier to shoot the bad guys," I said through gritted teeth, taking out two more tie fighters.

"That's a damn good shot!" Poe said eagerly from the cockpit, flying effortlessly around the tie fighters, giving me access to clear shots. "What's your name?"

"FN-2187," 87 yelled, still flat against the wall of the tie fighter. He attempted to move, but I swatted at his knee. "Ouch!"

"I need room here!" I said, aiming for the next fleet of tie fighters that were just released. Beads of sweat began to drip down my face. I hastily wiped them away.

"FN... what?" Poe yelled back to us, confused.

"That's the only name they ever gave me," 87 explained.

"Well, I ain't using it, pal. FN, huh? Finn, I'm going to call you Finn. Is that alright?"

"Finn. Yeah! Finn, I like that!"

"I'm Poe. Poe Dameron. What's your --" He began, the question directed at me, but I quickly interrupted him.

"Focus, pilot! Turbo laser."

"Where are we going?" Finn asked as soon as he realized that wasn't flying blindly to avoid the blasts from the First Order. The navigation system was on, directing us somewhere in the galaxy.

"We're going back to Jakku. That's where," he said roughly, nearly missing a shot from a nearby tie fighter.

"No, no, no," Finn started, panic in his voice. "We can't go back to Jakku! We need to get out of this system!"

"I gotta get my droid before the First Order does."

"What, a droid?" I said, incredulously. What robotic piece of junk was so special that had to trek back to the Jakku wasteland.

"That's right. He's a BB unit, orange, and white. One of a kind."

"I don't care what color he is! No droid can be that important."

"This one is pal."

"We gotta get as far away from the First Order as we can. We go back to Jakku? We die."

"That droid has a map that leads straight to Luke Skywalker," Poe said seriously. He reminded me of some of our top stormtroopers. Regardless of how far he landed from a mission, he was hyperfocused on completing what he started, but Finn was much less amused.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" Finn screamed in frustration. "91, try to talk some sense into this dumb pilot!"

"Who you calling dumb pilot, buddy?" Poe said dangerously, twisting around to glare at Finn.

"Both of you - shut up!" I yelled out both of them, silence now blanketing the fighter. "I don't think Jakku --"

I was interrupted before I could finish my thought. There were too many tie fighters and ventral cannon blasts for one fighter to control on their own. I tried as hard as I could to blow up the remaining fighters but it was like they were multiplying. A blast tore through one of the wings of the tie fighter, causing all controls to be disabled. Due to the impact of the blast, Finn slammed his head into the side of the ship, causing him to collapse over the weaponry controls.

"No!" I yelled as we started to plummet at dangerous speed to Jakku. I desperately tried to regain control of the weapon and push Finn aside but I was unable to. We were losing altitude quickly and I knew if I didn't do something, we would all die.

"Poe! A little help here!" I said, unbuckling myself from the gun chamber, fumbling over all of the straps. The loud, dangerous beeping in the cabin intensified. "Poe!"

There was no answer, so I reached around the chamber to find him. "No!" I screamed when I saw that he had also lost consciousness from the ventral blast. "No, no, no... this isn't happening!" I tried hitting the navigation buttons but everything seemed permanently disabled. I screamed out loud in frustration, trying to shake Poe back into consciousness, but it was no use. I darted my eyes around the controls and stopped when I saw the escape pod release.

Taking one last look at the closest thing I've ever known to family, I climbed into the cockpit next to Poe, closing the divider between us and Finn. "Please survive..." I whispered before slamming down on the release button. In an instant, the pod flew off of the fighter and plummeted to the ground. I silently prayed that we were far enough from the landing site that the parachute had enough time to open.

The force of the fall was causing my sight to be clouded with black dots; I knew I would be blacking out in moments. On instinct, I used every ounce of strength in me to pull up the control wheel in attempt to lessen the impact of landing, but before I knew it, I succumbed to the darkness. 


	5. The General

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

I slowly gained awareness to my breath. In, out... in, out... the voice in my head droned, forcing me to keep my attention on my lungs, forcing me to remember to breathe.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

My view was no longer the pitch black darkness of my own mind. I could see a light, however far away that light was, gradually coming closer and closer to me.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The taste of iron flooded my mouth as my dry tongue gilded against the back of my teeth. I struggled to swallow; my throat felt like sandpaper, a dull ache surrounded my head. The copper taste of stale blood was overwhelmingly present in my mouth.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The foreign beeping was getting louder, clearer, as it came to the forefront of my consciousness. I became more aware of the sounds around me, the muffled voices fogging my ears I could hear machines. A droid beeping. A man speaking.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

I became aware of the unfamiliar fabric at my fingertips, lining my body from my neck to my ankles. I tried to move my fingers, and a sharp pain shot through my body. The movement caused the voices to grow louder, so loud I let a scream escape to drown them out.

My eyes shot open in a panic and I found two sets of strange eyes staring at me in shock. I gaped at my surroundings; I could tell I was in a medical ward. I began to panic, trying to pull the multitude of tubes and wires off and out of me. The two medics rushed over trying to calm me down, both speaking a language I couldn't understand.

"Where am I!" I screamed, struggling against the medics. I ripped off the oxygen mask that lay across my face. "Where am I? Where is FN-2187?"

I felt a sharp needle jamming into my thigh and a comfortable haze of calm flooded my body. I closed my eyes, assuming unconsciousness would soon flood my body, but it never came. My eyes fluttered back open, my breathing stable.

"Better?" One of the medics asked kindly in an accent I didn't recognize, a polite smile etched on his kind face. I nodded as he adjusted the machinery in my room from my panic.

"Where am I?" I asked again slowly, allowing the tranquilizer to calm my thoughts and my voice. I tried to sit up in my bed, but a shooting pain ran up my legs.

"Whoa there. You took quite a fall. It would be in your best interest to stay still," the other medic said quickly, rushing to my side as I grimaced. "You are at the Resistance base in D'Qar. General Organa has been already been alerted to your consciousness and will explain everything once she arrives. Rest until she is here."

"D'Qar?" I asked. "In the outer rim? The Resistance? What --"

"That was a command, not a request," the medic said, gently patting me on my leg. "You're on quite a bit of pain medication and we need you to heal as quickly as possible."

I nodded, being acutely aware of the aching in my entire body, minimized from the pain medication being pulsed through my veins. The room was a dull gray, littered with medical machines and what looked like a service droid. What happened? I thought, struggling to remember. I tried to piece together what little I could remember:  _Jakku. Slip. 87. Escape. Pilot._

A door swooshed open, jarring me out of my thoughts. Standing in front of me was a woman, with unspeakable elegance, grace, and beauty. Her light brown hair was intricately braided atop her head like a crown. She was wearing a sage green jumpsuit and a purple vest with "Organa" stitched on the chest.

"General Organa," I whispered in awe. As a youngling, we were educated in Empire history, where Princess Leia played a massive role in the fall of the Galactic Empire. I had always, secretly, of course, admired her raw strength and bravery when it came to protecting her people.

I was surprised when she smiled. I had assumed her presence would be an order of execution. "I'm so happy you are awake. The Resistance owes you a great deal of gratitude for bravely saving our squadron captain. From the bottom of my heart, thank you."

My heart began to race and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Gratitude? I deserved no such thing. I was a deserter, not a hero.

"General," I began, my voice cracking. "Where is FN-2187?"

She looked at me sadly. "Poe will be able to tell you more about the specifics of that. We have not been able to locate your friend."

I couldn't help but let my tears flow freely and I choked back a sob. Everything we did, everything we tried to leave was for nothing. We should have just stayed.  _We should have just stayed!_

General Organa took a seat next to me and grabbed my hands. I hesitated, not used to physical contact, let alone compassion. "I can't imagine what you're going through right now," she said quietly, squeezing my hands gently, "but I need you to tell me everything that you can about the First Order. Then, we will go from there."

I nodded in understanding. One of the medics placed a glass of water next to me, and I knew this would be a long conversation. "What do you need to know?"

"Firstly, I would like to know your name."

"My name is FN-2191," I said. Anticipating her confusion, I interjected. "That's the only name they ever gave me when I was taken."

Her brow furrowed. Clearly, she was unaware of this practice of the First Order. "Taken?"

"I was taken from my parents when I was around 4 or 5 years old. We all were. Breeding of any kind is punishable by death," I said quietly, her eyes widening. Her grip on my hands became tighter. "I don't know my real name, my parents, or even my home planet as we are essentially brainwashed as a youngling. Sometimes I can recall faint memories, but they are fleeting. The only thing I have from my previous life is a necklace." I pulled the leather cord from my neck, revealing a white crystal. I held it tightly as I continued," I remember my mother hiding this in my sock when I was taken and I was able to hide it from my commander for all of these years."

"I'm so terribly sorry that you had to go through that. I had no idea," she trailed off, leaving me time to compose myself. "What would you like to be called?"

"Anything but numbers," I said bitterly. "The only names I've ever known are from the First Order."

The general stared at me, almost as if she was sizing me up. "When you have traveled the galaxy as I have, you begin to see the same set of eyes in different people. You remind me of someone I used to know when I grew up on Alderaan. Her name was Jaina. She was incredibly intelligent and brave, much like I believe you are. I think the name would fit you quite well."

"Jaina," I said quietly, echoing her. I felt a warmness flow through my body when saying the name. In that second, I knew that was it. "I love that name. Thank you, General."

"You are welcome, my dear," she said kindly. "Now, Jaina, please tell us about your background and what happened before you rescued Poe."

"I'll tell you everything I can remember," I said, and she nodded in encouragement.

"I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Once we finish our youngling academy, we are placed where the First Order elite think we will be most useful to their cause. That's where the first two letters of our names come from -- it denotes what division our jobs are in. At first, I was in the TY division, which was technology. I had always had a knack for coding droids and working on computers, so when I graduated, it was an obvious choice. I originally worked on tie fighter technology, mostly upgrades regarding their speed and weaponry. As I grew through the ranks, I began working on base weaponry."

"What kind of weapons are on the First Order base?"

"There's a multitude, General," I said, the guilt bubbling up in my stomach like boiling water. I felt incredibly ashamed. "I mostly worked on the ventral cannons, which are easily taken out with direct blasts, for the record... but they were beginning to work on a weapon that would destroy entire planets."

The general gasped, "No..."

"As far as I am aware, they were not finished with the project," I said in an attempt to calm the general who I knew would be anxious with that news. "My friend, FN... Finn and I were close throughout our schooling. He was originally placed in the sanitation division. We would have similar shifts so we would spend a lot of time together. One day, we decided stupidly to sneak into a blaster shooting range during an early morning shift. We were found by Captain Phasma, who decided to take move us to the FN Corps, the top corp in all the First Order."

"Why did she do that?"

"Finn displayed an aptitude for close range weapons and I was taken on to become a sharpshooter."

She paused, taking this in. "So, you have a deadly shot."

I nodded, "In theory. During our training, I would excel when we were basic targets. But during our battle simulations, where our targets were replaced with real people and real creatures, I couldn't do it. I couldn't shoot a hologram. I was too weak."

"You are not weak, Jaina," Organa said, squeezing my hand once more. "It means you have a conscious, something that is very highly regarded here. I'm sorry that you were told you were weak; that's simply not true."

"Thank you," I said, trying to hold back a smile. I had never received a genuine compliment before by a superior before and I could feel my heart race in happiness. "During our mission in Jakku, Finn and I saw our friend killed and we made a choice. We would never kill for the First Order. Once we returned to the base, we developed a plan. We knew we needed a pilot, and we had heard that the prisoner was one. We rescued him and we then stole a tie fighter."

"How long did it take for the First Order to realize that you two had deflected?"

"Almost instantly," I admitted. "As soon as we tried to depart, we had dozens of stormtroopers shooting. When we left the base, they released several squadrons of fighters and ventral cannons. We held them off as long as we could, but we were one against a hundred. When we were hit with the blast, both Finn and Poe lost consciousness due to the impact of the hit. I crawled into the cockpit and released Finn. I then tried to hit the cockpit emergency release button but it was jammed. As a last ditch effort, I pulled up on the fighter to try to slow down our fall. That's all I remember."

"Poe will tell you the rest," she said comfortingly. "I have alerted him that you have regained consciousness and he is coming here now. He has been visiting you as often as he could while you were out. I didn't know how to react to this. How can someone be so kind?

"But on to what's going to happen now," she said, suddenly very serious. "You have two options moving forward. I would consider it a great honor to welcome you to the Resistance as a fighter. Lord knows we could use your shooting skills and your technical prowess. But I know that your escape from the First Order wasn't to join us, and since we are in your debt, we would like to offer you a pod that would lead you to a small planet in the outer rim where you can essentially and effectively disappear. I know you may need some time to decide, so please take as long as you need --"

"I want to stay," I interrupted, surprising myself with my answer. Even from my few moments of consciousness, I felt an immense pull to stay on this planet, and I knew that this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

"I hope to serve you well as your General," she said, a smile on her face. "I'm assuming that crystal is from your home planet. If you would like, we could try to analyze it to test its origin. It may give you a clue of where you come from."

"That would be amazing," I said, shocked. In my soul, I knew that this Resistance would be the end of the FIrst Order. There is nothing stronger than hope, heart, and kindness. I just prayed it was sooner rather than later.

"May I?" the general asked, reaching towards my neck. I nodded, and she brushed the hair away from my shoulders to reach the small clasp that held the necklace together. She unclasped the necklace and gave it to the service droid at her side. "Please take this to the research facility." The droid beeped happily and sped away out of the room.

The general turned slightly in her seat to glance out of the small window in the door. "Now, there is someone that I want you to properly meet." She said warmly, turning back around to face me. The door clicked open and a familiar looking pilot, in a bright orange jumpsuit, walked timidly walked into the room.

"Poe, I'd like you to officially meet Jaina, our newest Resistance fighter." The general moved over slightly in her chair to allow Poe to move closer.Chocolate brown eyes locked on mine and I watched a smile growing on his face. And I swear, in that moment, my heart skipped a beat. 


	6. The Friend

_A/N: Thank you always for your kind comments. I have this entire story outlined, but if anyone has any ideas, message me!! I'd love to collaborate. Also, I'm switching this story to third person because it's easier for me to write. If you see the other chapters updating, that's why!_

"I'll leave you two to catch up," General Organa said kindly, getting up to leave to medical ward. She placed a comforting arm on Poe Dameron's shoulder and quickly whispered something in his ear. He furrowed his brow and gave her a strange look, but didn't say anything back to her as she walked out of the room. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to Jaina, an almost perfect smile gracing his features.

"Jaina," he said, smiling. Her name hung in the air, resonating. His face held the remains of scattered, healing bruises, no doubt left by their adventure, and his hair lay messily atop his head as if he just ran across the base to get to her. Even so, his brown eyes lit up the room and Jaina heart couldn't help but to skip a beat. "That's a much better name than FN ... whatever it was. It suits you."

"I'll tell the general that you approve of her naming skills," she said, smiling. His warm, chocolate brown eyes were playful, and his features were chiseled yet kind -- a stark contrast to the the bloodied face she knew just a few days ago.

"So," he started awkwardly. "I don't mean to be blunt, but can you fill in the missing pieces for me? What happened when we left your base?"

Jaina retold the story about what happened after the ventral cannon blast caused Finn and Poe to lose their consciousness. He listened with a deep intensity, like he was completing a puzzle -- filling out the missing portions of that night in his mind.

"So," she said, mirroring Poe's mannerisms from earlier in the conversation. "Can you explain how I got here?" Jaina asked after she had retold her side of the story to Poe. She saw the corners of his mouth pull up into a grin and she knew she was in for a good story.

"I came to right before we landed. When I was able to focus, I realized that you were laying on top of me and the controller," he started. Jaina flushed.  _There wasn't anywhere else I could fall but on his lap?_ She thought shrewdly, biting her lip.

"I could see that you were trying to pull us out of the dive but lost consciousness so you lost your hold. That was a smart move though. Were you a pilot?" He asked, clearly impressed by her instinct in the fall.

She shook her head. "No, before I was in the FN corps, I actually just worked in technology. I specialized in weaponry for the ships, so I was sort of familiar with the ship controls... but I could never have flown by myself."

"You got good instincts, I can tell you that right now. What type of upgrades do you think you could do on my --"

"Can we talk shop later? I kind of just want to know how I'm not dead."

"Good point," he said with a laugh. "I pulled us up again just long enough to set down -- hard. The impact threw us clear. I woke up at night; no ship, no jacket, nothing... and you were still unconscious. I carried you to where I thought the village was, but I went the wrong direction. Luckily, we were picked up by some itinerant trader and he took us both back here and i kept you stable on his cruiser. You have been out for the past three days."

Jaina frowned. "You carried me all that way?"

Poe looked confused. "Of course I did. I wasn't going to just leave you there to die."

"But... but you don't even know me. I'm a stormtrooper. You could have left me there and no one would have said a word against you."

"You're not a stormtrooper. Stormtroopers don't think for themselves. They don't... they don't try to sacrifice themselves for their friends. You are a hero. And now you're on my team. That's what we  _do._ We watch out for the people we care about."

 _Friend._ The word resonated in her mind. Friendships, attachments, relationships... all were frowned upon on her old base. It was overwhelming to hear this coming from someone she barely knew, but it felt nice. Wonderful, even.

Poe could tell Jaina needed some time to digest what happened. In her mind, the thoughts were reeling. Her life had (pretty much literally) flipped upside down in a matter of days. She had escaped from the only place she had ever known, almost died, and ended up in what she was taught was the enemy's camp for days. The weight of the world seemed to crash down on her.

"I'm not going to lie," she paused, tears slowly to well in her eyes. "I didn't think we were going to make it." The past few hours after she regained consciousness happened so quickly, she didn't had time to process that she was so close to death. Everything hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt like they cheated death. It didn't feel right that they were alive and her best friend was not.

"I know," he responded quietly. They sat there in a comfortable silence, the machines beeping rhythmically around them. "But we  _did._  We both survived...And I intend to take full advantage it."

A loud bell rang throughout an intercom, jarring the two. "That's the dinner bell," Poe said, explaining the noise. He looked guiltily at me. "Do you mind if..."

Jaina waved him off. "Please, go eat. I'm not sure how I'll manage without you, but I'll try my hardest."

Poe chuckled. "I can come visit after dinner if you'd like," Poe said, getting up to leave.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken under his gaze. "Yes, I'd like that," she said quietly. "It would be nice to have someone else to hang out with besides my own thoughts."

"See you soon," Poe said politely as he walked out of the room, and Jaina couldn't help but to think that he was just talking to her out of obligation -- like he felt indebted to her.

The automatic door swooshed shut behind him and Jaina was left alone with her thoughts. She closed her eyes hard and her mind went to Finn. Finn, her only friend, was gone. It was his idea to leave the base and save the resistance pilot. Why did he have to do that? Although she hoped she would see him again, she knew that would probably never happen.  _What am I going to do now, Finn?_ She thought bitterly.  _Now what?_

The thought of a future without him absolutely crushed her. She was in a new planet with hundreds of people who, once they found out her past, would want nothing to do with her. At least if she had Finn, she could probably make it through the inevitable stares and whispers. Now she only has Poe.

 _Poe._ Even though he called her a friend, she knew he was just being polite. He knew nothing about her. At the end of the day, no matter what anyone said, she would still be looked at as a stormtrooper.  _How the hell am I going to do this?_

A knock on the door shook her out of her rapid fire thoughts. She opened her eyes to find Poe holding a few items in his hand. He mouthed, "can I come in?" Jaina nodded, furrowing her brow. The door wasn't opening.

She shrugged and raised her arms in question. He pointed at one of the many buttons near her bedside. "Hit the green one!" he yelled, muffled by the almost soundproof door. She did as instructed and hit the button -- the door burst open with a satisfying woosh.

"Sorry about that, " she said sheepishly. "No one gave me any hospital room directions."

He grinned. "No worries. You're in one of our top security rooms that can only be opened from the inside. I brought you some--"

"Wait," she said suddenly, interrupting him. She could feel her heart rate increase. "Secure room? Like a prisoner?"

"Relax," he said, grinning. "You're not a prisoner. The people on this planet can be a... curious bunch. With me coming back from a First Order base with an unknown girl, General Organa and I decided it would be best to keep you safe and away from prying eyes until you're ready."

"Oh," she said stupidly. Even as a girl she always jumped to the worst conclusion and it threw her off to know that people could actually care so much about someone they just met. "Thanks, I guess."

"I have been known to have a good idea every once and awhile," he said, a cocky smile on his face. Now, like I was saying, I brought you some dessert. I didn't know if you'd be hungry, so I brought you a few bama bars. They can be pretty stingy about food here, so I thought I could help start your stock pile of snacks."

Jaina could help but laugh. "Thank you. I actually didn't realize how hungry I was until... well, until just now." Poe handed her the bars and she opened it immediately. "So, umm, what's up?" She said, not knowing what to do next.

"I don't really know how to say this," he said cautiously, rubbing the back of his neck. Jaina picked at her bama bar out of nervousness. "Thank you for saving me. I wouldn't be here without you, plain and simple. I don't know how my dad would have taken it, what would have happened to the squadron here... I just want to say thank you, even though I feel like that doesn't cover everything you've done."

She paused, locking eyes with him. He stared back at her with such an intensity if almost frightened her, but she knew he was being sincere. "I have no doubt you would have figured out a way out of there, flyboy."

"No, I don't think I could have," he said seriously. "I will never forget what you and your friend did for me. Just... thanks again for saving my life."

Her thoughts flashed back to her life on the First Order base. She remembered all of the hatred, all of the abuse, all of the sadness. She shook her head, "No...Thank you for saving mine."


End file.
